Bonfire
by NancyMay
Summary: An idea that came to me after a conversation with my mother in law, who has lead an interesting life between birth in Belfast and life following her husband around while her served in the RAF. This is based, loosely on a story of her brother and his friends, during WWII.


Inspired by a story my dear mother in law told me. Set during the Munro era.

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'Hullo, Mrs Beazley.' A grubby faced boy greeted her as she opened the door.

'Hello to you Stevie Evans, what can I do for you?' She smiled. The Evans family were patients of Lucien's, struggling to make ends meet and pay their bills, the boys often offered to do small jobs for her in part payment. They didn't owe anything at this time so what were the boys up to.

'Jus' wondered if you had any bits of wood for the bonfire.' He grinned and sniffed. His two small brothers nodded in agreement. With fireworks night coming up there were lots of children going round the district collecting wood and bits to burn.

'Hmm.' Jean pretended to think, 'How about you do some weeding for me and I might have some small branches from the trees.'

'Great, thanks.' Stevie grinned, Mrs Beazley always came up trumps. She'd shown him what were weeds over the past years since he had starting coming with his mother and proved himself an intuitive gardener.

'Ok, well you know where the garden is and the tools.' She grinned, she liked the boys they were well brought up in spite of everything, never begged, always worked for their handouts. She closed the door and went to the sunroom to observe the boys getting to work.

Back in the kitchen she started to make Lucien's lunch. There was enough to make something for the boys and maybe something to send home. Mrs Evans had been widowed and was doing her best to provide for the boys by taking in washing or mending, but it was hard. Jean had been in the same position once, maybe not as bad but she had a good idea how hard it was, so she would find ways to help without it being seen as 'charity'.

She set the table to include the boys, Lucien wouldn't mind, he liked them, they were like him as a boy, cheeky, caring little scamps but never doing serious wrong.

Lucien wandered in, the autopsy was over and his partial report passed to Superintendant Munro. Partial because he was not sure why the man had died where he had been found, just how. Munro insisted the autopsy reports were on his desk as soon as the task was completed, Lucien and Alice had worked out a way of filling out a report without saying anything.

He stopped as he heard voices from the kitchen, young voices,

'Father,

For what we are about to receive, make us truly thankful.

Amen.'

Jean didn't usually say Grace before a meal so who?..

The Evans' boys. They must have done some chores for Jean and she was rewarding them with lunch. He smiled and joined them,

'Amen.' He smiled, it was so long since he had said Grace, but it was nice to hear it again.

Jean looked up a smile in her eyes,

'Dr Blake.' She greeted him, looking at her it was obvious she adored children, 'Stevie and his brothers have done some gardening for me in exchange for wood for the bonfire.'

'Well, that seems like a fair exchange, well done, boys.' He sat in his customary place and the boys, who had waited for him to sit sat at the opposite end of the table.

'Tuck in boys.' and she meant all of them, as she sat down with them.

'So, boys.' Lucien swallowed, manners, don't speak with your mouth full, Lucien, he thought, 'how is your dear mother?'

'She's well, doctor, thank you.' Stevie answered for his younger brothers. 'She's got a position cleaning at the Soldier's Hill Hotel.' He looked pleased.

'Marvellous.' He grinned, it was nice to hear she was working, the income would help enormously.

'...and you, boys, you're helping in the house?' Jean asked.

'Yes'm.' Stevie nodded. 'I get the little'uns up in the morning and she's there when we get home from school and Li'l Al from our neighbour's.' He grinned, life was getting better.

Jean saw the boys off with their haul of wood and a parcel of homemade biscuits. Alan, or Li'l Al as he was know, the youngest and smallest of the boys flung his arms round her in thanks. He never said anything, didn't Li'l Al, just hugged and grinned. She smiled and patted his back, he was a dear little soul.

Jean and Lucien thought no more about the visit of the Evans' boys until two days later. A body was found, hidden under some old planks of wood outside Tyneman's shoe factory. Lucien and Alice did the autopsy and pronounced death as the result of blunt force trauma to the back of the head, probably from a heavy chunk of wood.

Munro focussed his attention on the local boys that were collecting wood for the bonfire and checked every family, every boy and every pile of wood. He was looking for a piece of wood with blood on it, and he found it, in the Evans' yard. The boys admitted they had been collecting wood and had collected some from the factory, but they hadn't seen a body or anyone come to that. But Munro's suspicious nature and determination to convict someone, anyone would do, led to him arresting three boys, whose ages ranged from ten years to four.

At about the time Lucien was told to check the health of those in the cells a tearful Mrs Evans was pounding on the front door of his house. Jean opened it, wondering who would need the doctor so urgently, to be met by the poor woman flinging her arms round the housekeeper and sobbing into her shoulder. Jean helped her into the living room and sat down next to her on the couch. Giving the woman time to compose herself she waited until Mrs Evans could tell what was upsetting her so.

'It's my boys, Mrs Beazley.' She sniffed, 'they've been arrested, Mr Munro says they've murdered somebody.' She began crying again.

Jean was aghast, Stevie, John, Li'l Al? No! Not possible. They were the sweetest boys, kind, helpful, well mannered.

'Calm down and tell me what happened.' She stroked the woman's shoulders.

'The boys have been collecting wood.' She whispered.

'I know, they came here and did some chores for me in return for some branches off the trees.' Jean smiled comfortingly.

'They picked up some wood from outside the shoe factory, not all of it, there was too much. Apparently there was a body at the bottom of the pile and my boys had picked up the piece of wood he had been hit with.' Mrs Evans turned and looked pleadingly at Jean, 'Mrs Beazley my boys wouldn't hurt anyone, and Li'l Al? He must be so scared.'

Jean stood up and held out her hand to the woman. Thanking Lucien, silently, for having hitched a ride with Charlie that morning, she took her out to the car and drove her down to the station. She didn't quite know what she could do but maybe she could see someone sympathetic, like Charlie or Ned or even Lucien.

As luck would have it she bumped into Charlie before she got to the office.

'Charlie, this is Mrs Evans. We believe her boys are in the cells.' She spoke quietly but clearly, indicating her concern at the situation.

'They are. The doc's with then now. If you're quiet and quick I can get you down there. The boss is out of the station with Mr Tyneman at the moment.' He hurried them down to the cells where Lucien was checking the boys for signs of abuse. He turned when he heard footsteps on the floor and smiled when he saw Jean and Mrs Evans.

'Ah here we are boys,' He tried to sound casual and cheery, 'Mum and Mrs Beazley.' He stood up, Li'l Al in his arms and pushed the cell door further open.

'We didn't do anything, mum, honest.' Stevie said holding out his hands. He was noticeably distressed which gave her less hope for John and the baby, Li'l Al.

'We know, son.' Lucien put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

'But, Mr Munro...' His eyes were wide with fear, Munro had a bad reputation amongst the boys of Stevie's age. He quite often appeared in school to lecture them on the consequences of their actions should they prove to be 'ill advised', was his term.

'Don't worry, Stevie.' Lucien said, 'we'll sort it out. Just be patient and know we believe in you.'

'Lucien.' Jean moved closer, 'Li'l Al, he's far too young to be in a police cell. So are Stevie and John for that matter.' She pulled him out of the cell to talk away from Mrs Evans, 'what does Munro think he's doing?' Her voice had become a whisper.

'God knows, Jean.' He admitted he was completely nonplussed about the whole thing. Asking questions of a ten year old was bad enough, but a seven and four year old, it was unthinkable.

'Doc.' Charlie's urgent voice preceded him.

'You two, out.' Lucien pushed Jean and Mrs Evans out of the cell and down towards the steps. Munro rounded the corner missing the ladies by seconds.

'Blake.' His expression questioned why the police surgeon was standing holding a small boy in his arms with the cell door was wide open. 'I'll have the oldest in first.'

'You can't interview children, at least you should have a parent or close family friend present. Stevie's only ten.' Lucien stood in his way.

'I'll be the judge of that doctor.' Munro threatened.

Lucien thrust L'il Al into Charlie's arms, 'I'll observe, then. As police surgeon I am supposed to ensure they do not come to any harm.' Lucien could be equally threatening, notwithstanding he was likely to be asked to hand in his resignation, again! Munro signalled his, reluctant, agreement so Lucien told Charlie to stay with the two younger boys.

'My sergeant is not a babysitter, Blake.' Munro cautioned.

'Then you shouldn't have babies in the cells.' Lucien headed off towards the interview room, followed by Stevie and Munro, bringing up the rear. Charlie stared after them while the two boys stared up at Charlie. Sitting on the bed in the cell with L'il Al on his knee, Charlie looked at John.

'So, son.' He said, remembering how he'd got his younger brothers to open up, 'any idea what happened?'

'No, sir.' John shook his head. 'We didn't see anything. We took the wood off the top of the pile, there was loads but we only had a little trolley so we took a few pieces off the top.'

'...and the piece Mr Munro was interested in?' Charlie asked, looking serious.

'That was too heavy for Stevie, so I helped him.' John sniffed. 'We didn't see blood on it, sir, honest.' His eyes started to fill with tears. Charlie squeezed his shoulder, he had no doubt that the boys were in no way responsible for the man's death. He'd seen the wood, it was too heavy for a child, only a well built man would be able to swing it with enough force to kill, or even just knock someone out, that's if it had indeed been a weapon. The doctor's report just stated blunt force, but not how that blunt force had been administered. Munro, as usual, hadn't let Blake near the scene of the incident so maybe, just maybe it had been an unhappy accident. Charlie recalled the scene, a jumbled up pile of wood, not put down, as if it had fallen off a ledge or the back of a truck. Had Lucien checked the blood group. The longer Charlie lived with Lucien and Jean the more he learnt about detection and the importance of blood groups. Could it be that this blood did not belong to the dead man at the bottom of the pile. Charlie stood up, he had an idea.

'Come with me, John.' He left the cell, followed by the lad and found Jean and Mrs Evans out of sight just down the steps.

'Mrs Beazley.' Charlie held out Li'l Al to his mother, 'take these boys and Mrs Evans back to your house. I'll ring you in a while.'

'What about Munro, Charlie?' Jean held out her hand to John, 'won't you get into trouble?'

'Probably, but I've got an idea. Something to do with what the doc's always going on about, blood groups.' Charlie shot off leaving the four staring after him.

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Charlie found the lump of wood and scraped a chunk off with his penknife, being careful not to touch the blood. He ran over to the morgue where he found Dr Harvey, checking the wound again. Lucien had said there was something wrong with the idea that a ten year old could fell a man in relatively good condition, and relatively well built. The only evidence was bloody splinters in the wound and a large plank of wood with blood on it.

'Dr Harvey...' Charlie coughed, out of breath from running, 'have you checked that the blood groups are the same? His and that on the wood.'

'I'd love to, Charlie, but Mr Munro has not provided me with a sample, in spite of me requesting one earlier today.' Alice smiled at the sergeant's obvious intelligence.

'Will this do?' He held out the piece he had taken, wrapped in a clean handkerchief.

'Dr Blake keeps giving me bits in his handkerchief too, be careful, you're turning into him.' She took the sample and began scraping and dissolving the dried blood.

'No bad thing, doctor. Better than turning into Munro.' He grinned.

'You're not wrong there.'

Charlie hovered while Alice placed drops of red liquid onto a card.

'Sergeant Davis, be patient.' She laughed.

'Difficult. The boss is interviewing young Stevie now. Blake's in there too. I've sent the two little ones with Mrs Beazley and Mrs Evans back to the doc's.' Charlie hopped from one food to the other, he was in for it if he was wrong.

'Right, I see your hurry.' She smiled. 'The blood on the wood does NOT match that of our body.'

'You mean...' Charlie gasped.

'Yes, Charlie.' She grinned, 'this is not the piece of wood that killed him. Stevie is not to blame, in any way.' She hastily scribbled a note and handed it to the officer who shot out of her presence with a,

'Thanks doc!'

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Charlie burst into the interview room. Munro was leaning on his hands over the table, glaring at young Stevie, who, it seemed remained resolute to the point of obstinacy.

'Boss, a word.' Even Charlie would not dare humiliate Munro by confronting him in front of a suspect. Munro glared at him.

'Now, sir.' Charlie was insistent, holding the door open.

Out in the corridor Charlie held out the piece of paper with Alice's neat writing on.

'When..?' Munro didn't recall asking for a blood test.

'Well, sir,' Charlie was as respectful as he could be, 'it occurred to me that that is a big piece of wood for one lad of Stevie's size to lift. John said it took both of them. I wondered if there had been a blood group comparison done so I took a piece of the evidence down to Dr Harvey. She's just checked, it wasn't the piece of wood that killed our man. The blood groups are different.' He stood looking at his superior who had got it stupendously wrong, missed elementary searches and tried to get a conviction too quickly. 'Sir, it's just possible it was an accident. Maybe the man fell.'

Munro's eyes narrowed. It would be so easy to implicate the boy, get it over and done with then he could get on with discrediting Blake and worming his way into the Freemasons and Tyneman's social set. Now they would have to commit to a full and proper investigation. The death of some local man was not what he wanted to investigate, it was inconsequential; getting Blake was his ultimate goal. He turned on his heel and marched back into the room.

'Out!' He barked, 'keep out of my sight, any mischief and you'll be back in here. Dr Blake will not be able to save you next time.'

Stevie got up and scarpered, stopping at Charlie. Lucien followed him after wishing William 'good afternoon.'

'Let's get your brothers, eh?' Lucien smiled down at the relieved boy.

'They're at yours, doc. I sent them with Mrs Beazley and Mrs Evans.' Charlie grinned.

'How did you manage it, Charlie?' Lucien was impressed with the sergeant.

'Tell you later, just think blood groups.' Charlie grinned and watched them walk off.

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Lucien opened his front door and called cheerily,

'Anyone home!'

Jean almost instantly appeared in front of him, and she smiled, there was Stevie, smiling back.

'Doctor.' She gasped, 'Stevie, your mother's in the living room, there's milk and biscuits, help yourself.'

As Stevie went to see his mother and brothers Jean went to Lucien, desperate to find out how he had managed to get the boy free. He told her it had been Charlie, Charlie had listened and taken in methods he'd used, blood groups, thinking. He couldn't have been prouder if the officer had been his own son.

Jean smiled and squeezed his elbow, not quite ready to kiss his cheek, but he leaned over and kissed her forehead, anyway.

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That evening, over dinner, Lucien and Charlie told Jean how it had become clear that Stevie and his brothers had nothing to do with the death of the man in the wood pile. Charlie told how he had taken a sample of blood from the wood and taken it to Alice for analysis, thinking how the doctor would use blood grouping as a way of discounting various possiblities.

'Would Munro really have interviewed John and Li'l Al?' Jean asked.

'Might have.' Lucien swallowed a mouthful of roast chicken. 'But he'd have got nothing out of Alan, he's deaf.'

'I wondered why he never spoke. Mrs Evans never said anything.' Jean mused.

'No, she thought everyone would think he was backward. So she just said that the bigger boys talked for him.' Lucien looked sad. 'It's taken a long time but I've finally persuaded her to take sign language lessons and teach Alan to communicate through his hands.'

'Oh.' Jean thought about this, 'would it help if I learnt, too? It would mean he would have someone else to talk to.'

'I'll see if I can arrange something.' Lucien thought that was the sweetest thing she could offer. 'But until then, your shortbread and smiles are all he needs.'

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I feel that Lucien would have the knowledge that sign language exists, and as I have a level 1 in British Sign Language I thought it would be nice to bring something like this into a story. The story my Ma in law told me was of her brother and friends mistakenly picking up a piece of wood used for locking factory gates for a bonfire. They were fined ten pounds, during the war, for theft. The factory owners should have made sure the plank was safely stored.

Reviews and comments welcome as always. x


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